Shadow Singer
by Elen-tari
Summary: **chapter 5** During Voldemort's reign of terror, the Ministry of Magic faces corruption from within as the decision to vote on the Unforgivable Curses draws near. Story behind Snape and a bard named Narcissa and their choices concerning the dark arts R
1. Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: This story takes place a couple years before the fall of Voldemort. It will involve Snape, and his choices concerning the dark arts. All characters seen in this portion are property of the wonderful and imaginative J. K. Rowling (yes, ALL of them, but some of them are only mentioned VERY BRIEFLY, so their personalities are my own creation). There will be some romance, but the story may get a little dark as it goes on, so consider yourself warned (not much of that yet tho.... later.)_ Other characters who will be making an appearance beside those you will meet now: James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Tom Riddle, Lucius Malfoy, Albus Dumbledore, and possibly Nicholas Flamel. Kay. HERE IT IS (and it's really long!):_

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Shadow Singer

Chapter 1

The scent of rain, fresh straw, and smoldering fires stirred in the wind, quivering through the nearly deserted streets of Diagon Alley. Most of the shops had closed their doors for the night, though the remnants of the busy day could still be seen in the dozens of footprints left in the muddy ground. The shadowy sky, full of slowly growing, black storm clouds with silver edges, was dark and moonless. Colorless fog smothered the street. Aside from the call of an owl on the weary October night, the only sounds were the ones that came from within the Leaky Cauldron. Music, laughter, and tumultuous voices clashed with the heartbreaking silence that reigned outdoors.

Severus Snape found himself strangely aware of this hither to unnoticed battle, as he paused beside the archway leading into the Alley from the pub. The greasy light that shown upon the wall turned the white bricks an eerie yellow, the color of aged bones. From the top of the arch, a large peacock regarded him, a disconcerting glitter of emerald, bronze, and blue as an electric flame. The first drops of rain were beginning to fall, in a desperate attempt to drown out the ruckus from the Leaky Cauldron. As they came down more steadily, and just as quickly, Snape began to realize the intense ferocity of the coming storm. 

Adjusting the hood on his black cloak, he proceeded out into the street, making his way through the icy torrents. He encountered no one, though he vaguely thought he could hear footsteps somewhere in between meticulous the rolls of distant thunder. Indeed, when he rounded a corner, he caught a glimpse of a pale gray blur within the darkness. Had it not been for the footsteps, he might have mistaken it for his imagination. . . or perhaps one of the local ghosts. Glancing, casually over his shoulder, he saw nothing. But the footsteps continued, following him from a comfortable distance. 

Deciding that he was too wet and cold to care if he was being followed or not, Snape did not alter his course. He arrived shortly outside of a small, faded shop with a battered sign that read: _Arsenius Jigger, Apothecary. Herbs and Potions for every Ailment. _The footsteps paused, somewhere close by, as he produced a small silver key from his pocket and unlocked the door. As he opened it, he looked behind. 

The grayish shape was standing forlornly in the middle of the road, looking miserably wet. It was definitely a person, at least humanoid, that was. It was watching him, almost hopefully. He and the being stood, for some moments, studying each other. Then, shrugging, Snape stepped inside.

"Wait!" 

A voice called through the rain. He turned once more, in time to see the figure, dashing madly in his direction, slip and fall into the muddy ground.

"Shit!"

It had a female voice.

He could hardly make out her grayish form through the rain. Lightening flashed abruptly, shattering Snape's vision into shards of darkness and merciless white. He could see her more clearly then, struggling most unhappily in the mud. 

"Oh, for God's sake," Snape called out to her, irritated. "Come inside."

He went inside, too quickly to see her, shimmering silver in the mist and rain, spring up energetically and make a mad dash toward the shelter of the store. 


	2. Chapter 2

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Disclaimer: All characters seen in this portion are property of the wonderful and imaginative J. K. Rowling (yes, ALL of them, but some of them are only mentioned VERY BRIEFLY, so their personalities are my own creation). 

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Shadow Singer

Chapter 2

She stood, dripping, amongst strongly smelling herbs and jewel toned vials of unknown anointments. Snape, scowling, waited in the doorway leading to a back room from which golden firelight radiated. She came forward, not at all perturbed by his expression. The scowl deepened, but he let her enter. He could hear her teeth chattering somewhere from the depths of her soggy gray robes. He sighed.

He gestured at the stairs on the far side of the room. "There's a bathroom on your left," he said, not looking at her. "Arsenius, my boss, keeps a set of spare robes in case of potion spills in the cupboard. You can wear those."

"Thanks," she said and trudged up the stairs, with a longing glance toward the fire.

Snape was annoyed with himself. He couldn't fathom what had possessed him to let her come in. The lightening must have temporarily blinded his rationality. But now that she was here, what difference did it make? Arsenius probably wouldn't mind if he let some wanderer in for the night to escape the storm. God knew _he'd_ certainly been pleased to get away from it. Lightening flickered behind the closed curtains. Thunder crashed immediately after, louder than ever before. The storm was almost directly over Diagon Alley, he realized.

From the top of the stairs, a voice chanted, crisp and musical as autumn:

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"The storm will arise

And trouble the skies

This night; and, more the wonder,

The ghost from the tomb,

Affrighted shall come,

Called out by the clap of thunder."

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The storm raged outside. The wind began to pick up, moaning for all that is lost and forgotten.

He heard her step down several stairs, then stop. "All right," she called, cheerfully. I'm coming down. But these robes are a hundred sizes too big, so you must promise not to laugh." 

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, sarcastically, as he turned to see her. She was astonishingly tall and becomingly slender. The black robes hung loose off her shoulders and her arms were lost in the billowing sleeves. A simple chain of gold was clasped about her bare neck. Fierce and lion colored hair hung tangled yet free, glistening with droplets of water. Her skin was pale as snow in starlight. She had a very sharp nose and chin, but otherwise an entirely pleasing face. And those eyes. . . _Could they really be peridot?_ wondered Snape.

It was not her beauty that surprised him, but her age. She was still--- or at least appeared to be--- very young, eighteen at most. He felt he might have seen her somewhere before, but couldn't remember for sure. If he had, she'd looked quite different then. _Perhaps at Hogwarts?_

She grinned foolishly, tugging at the robes in a self-conscious manner. 

Snape's expression did not register any of his surprise. "Ravishing," he informed her, dead-pan.

"I feel ridiculous," she said, laughing as she crossed to sit on the couch by the fire. The lightening flashed again, outlining her against the flames. The thunder groaned in agonized lament, then all was still, but for the clamor of the rain. "A night for ghosts and shadows," she remarked, and laughed again, as if over some private joke. Snape raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The wind muttered.

She reached out her had so that it almost touched the flames "I feels as if I could never get warm again," she said and shivered. "I hung my cloak up in the shower. I cast an evaporation spell, so it should be dry by tomorrow." She looked at him, a little expectant, a little apprehensive.

Snape sighed again and sat in the chair opposite the couch. "Yes, you can stay here, but only for the night. I suggest you be gone by noon, no matter what the weather. And don't nod at me like that. I know how bards have their ways of preying on other people's hospitality," he told her.

"I. . . Well. . . Hey, how did you know I was a bard?"

He allowed her a small, mocking smile. 

She fiddled with the folds of the robe and glared at the fire. "Very well, Severus, be that way." Her hair shown amber with its warmth.

"Am I supposed to ask how you knew my name?"

She gave him a patronizing look, tainted with teenage annoyance. She was still very young, not entirely mature. He was only in his mid-twenties himself, but he had grown up long ago. 

She didn't stay angry long. The annoyance faded, to be replaced with that imp-like grin. She made herself more comfortable on the couch, lying on her stomach, still reaching out to the fire's heat. "Was it the poem that tipped you off?" she guessed.

"No," he replied. "I'd never heard it before."

"It's a Muggle poem. Muggles may lack a lot of things, but they have beautiful literature. Without magic, they get so creative. Magic blinds you to so much. That's why I dropped out of Hogwarts and decided to come a bard." A stray spark licked her hand. She flinched and held knuckles to her lips. "I'm not very successful," she mumbled. Not at all, in fact. I'm completely broke." She eyed him carefully.

"I'm afraid you have a rather unsympathetic audience," he advised her. "But from my understanding, most bards are extremely irresponsible when it comes to money."

She examined her singed hand and said nothing.

Snape, getting increasingly aggravated with himself every second, got up and went into the other room. Her returned with a glass vial. She did not speak as he knelt and applied some anointment to her hand. The redness calmed and her hand returned to its astonishingly white color.

He stood up. She considered him gravely. "So, is this when you ask what my name is?"

His dark eyes fixed on her, a little harshly. "Well?" he asked her.

She sprang to her feet, happy to oblige. "Narcissa Grae at your service," she said, bowing.

"Severus Snape," he said. "But then you already knew."

"Yes," she admitted. "I remember you from when I went to Hogwarts. I came when you were a sixth year. I was in you House, but you probably don't remember. You didn't associate with first years. Or hardly anyone at all. Neither did I, for that matter." 

Her smile was more than a little sardonic.

Snape nodded. "I thought you were familiar," but he was surprised to hear she had been a Slytherin. She hadn't seemed like the type to him, until he'd seen that smile. It wasn't pleasant.

"I hated Hogwarts in general though." Her hands fingered the gold chain around her neck.

"So did I, at times," said Snape, thinking of Sirius Black and James Potter, his two chief rivals. 

Narcissa moved to the window and drew back the curtain. Her golden reflection against the rain spatter glass reminded Snape of the shadow of someone she once had been. Her breath left small clouds against the glass. "What a night," she whispered, and he could not tell if she spoke of the storm that raged outside or a distant memory of long ago. Her laugh was bitter.

She shook herself and returned to the couch, this time catching up the pillow and hugging it in her arms. She looked exhausted. The fire snickered at her in the stillness. 

Without speaking, Snape went into the other room to replace the vial. _She had bizarre mood swings,_ he thought and wondered how old she really was. _And secrets. I didn't think so at first, but she has them. Dark ones._

He wondered what Arsenius was going to say when he found a teenaged bard sleeping on the couch in the back room in the morning. 

He came back quieter than he'd intended. She was still sitting on the couch, her white arm outstretched as she examined her hand. The sleeve of her robe had slipped back all the way to her shoulder and he could see dark bruises on her upper arm. Finger marks.

"Narcissa," he said.

Startled, she dropped her hand. She looked at him, her green eyes lost their sparkle and turned to cold jade. "Don't ask," she said fiercely.

"I wasn't going to," he said dryly, eyes narrowing. "But someone must have had you arm in a very tight grip."

She said nothing.

"Narcissa---" he began.

"Oh, _don't_ say my name that way," she burst out. "You make it sound like bits of broken glass that you could cut yourself on if you didn't watch out."

He stared. "I---- _what?"_

"Have you ever been in love?" she demanded.

"No," he said without thinking, caught off guard.

"That's what I thought," she snapped. "Now kindly go away. Since I'm to depart tomorrow morning, I would like to get a decent night sleep first. Please leave." She flung the pillow onto the side of the couch and curled up. She eyes were angry, but he thought he saw a faint shimmer of tears. 

He went upstairs to his quarters, over the shop, angrier than he had been in a long time. He'd never met anyone like her before. . . and God knew, he certainly wished he never would again.

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(A/N): heh heh. She's nutters, isn't she? btw, the poem that Narcissa says can be found in Peter S. Beagle's The Folk of the Air. Considering that it's my absolute favorite book, I just had to fit it in somewhere..... 


	3. Chapter 3

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Disclaimer: All characters seen in this portion are property of the wonderful and imaginative J. K. Rowling (yes, ALL of them, but some of them are only mentioned VERY BRIEFLY, so their personalities are my own creation). 

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Shadow Singer

Chapter 3

When he awoke, his black mood was still with him. Through the patter of the drizzling rain, he could hear the chimes of the bell tower announce that it was six o'clock. He dressed quickly and made his way downstairs, preparing a list of colorful words to say to Narcissa. He had brooded of their conversation a long while before sleep at last claimed him, and the more he thought about her, the angrier he got.

When he came down the stairs, the room was empty. The fire had gone out long ago, the cushions on the couch restored to their normal places. The door to the shop was ajar. He could hear humming from within.

Snape went in. Glancing around, he saw no one but Arsenius, hovering over a cauldron, tugging at his white beard. "Where is she?" he demanded.

The middle-aged wizard stopped his humming and peered at Snape from behind his glasses in minor confusion. "Where is who, Severus?"

"That girl who was hear last night," he said impatiently. "Where has she gone?"

"A girl? Here?" He gave Snape a disbelieving look, then he grinned. "Friend of yours?"

"No," said Snape. "I have no idea who she was. I let her in so she could be out of the storm."

"Indeed? How unusually kind of you. She must have been quite charming. What was her name?"

"Narcissa Grae. And she wasn't charming at all, but temperamental, skittish, insolent, disrespectful----"

"You needn't continue," Arsenius interrupted, but he was still grinning like a polar bear. "But she sounds a good match for you. Or not," he added, seeing Snape's expression of loathing. 

"She was a bard. Or thought she was."

"Ah. Well then." Arsenius returned to his potion.

Snape scowled and returned to the inner room. He knew that he should be pleased that Narcissa had vanished without a trace, but he wasn't. 

_Have you ever been in love?_ He some way to get make her regret asking him, just as he regretted answering her. And the way he regretted what his answer had been. 

A sudden glimmer amongst the ashes caught his eye. He stooped and retrieved it, his fingers turning black with the soot. It was a ring, a simple band of iron, without any markings. He could not recall if Narcissa had worn any jewelry apart from the gold necklace. It seem relatively ordinary, but there were countless magic rings in the world designed specifically to avoid attention. Perhaps, if he had a spare moment during the day, he'd take it to be tested. He pocketed it.

"Severus!" 

Snape jerked, startled. Arsenius dashed across the room and yanked the cauldron his employee had been mulling over away from the flames. "This almost boiled over," he said, sounding displeased. "You weren't paying attention at all. This potion requires the utmost care. Another minute or so, and it'd have been ruined. . . In fact, I think it's too late."

"I can't think where my mind was," said Snape, irritated. 

"Don't worry about it. Everybody slips up every now and then." The old man smiled shallowly. "I wish I could have met her," he remarked.

"Who?" said Snape, peevishly.

"You know perfectly well who I mean. She must have been something special to have such an effect on you."

"I don't know what you---"

"Why don't take the afternoon off? Stop by the Leaky Cauldron. Bards like to gather there." Arsenius set the cauldron on the table. 

"No. Don't try meddling."

"I shall do whatever I damn well please. If you chose not to take the afternoon free, I'll fire you. For having an incurably thick skull."

Although he was never quite sure how it happened, ten minutes later, Snape found himself by the Leaky Cauldron, entirely unaware of what awaited him inside.

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(A/N: bwa ha ha!!!!! do you like it?? even if you don't, please review and tell me all about it!!! I hope to get the next chapter finished soon, but i'm not exactly sure what's going to happen in it. However, can promise that Sirius, James, Lily, (briefly) and Lucius are going to be in it. Maybe Tom Riddle. Maybe. 


	4. Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

A blast of warmth and noise greeted him as he opened the door. The large room, full of yellow smoke and the din of a hundred conversations, was unusually crowded. A scowl formed upon Snape's lips, for he saw no one he knew---- or rather no one that he wished to speak with. At the far end of the pub, Sirius Black was standing on a table and waving his drink at two of his four companions---- James Potter and Lily Evans. "That's right, folks," he was crowing, tossing his dark pony-tail excitedly. "They've finally decided to make it official. Tying the knot on June third. About bloody time, I say! Why James, are you blushing?" He sprang off the table, elegant as a panther, and held up Lily's hand. "The ring, ladies and gentlemen. Seventy gold Galleons, if you'd like to know. . ."

Snape's scowl deepened as he watched Black. _He never could resist drawing attention to himself,_ he thought. He was on the verge of approaching the small cluster of Gryffindor graduates with some effectively sarcastic remark, when suddenly a voice behind him remarked in surprise: "Severus! Severus Snape! I thought that was you."

He turned and came face to face with the gray-eyed Lucius Malfoy. 

Snape gave him a sour look. Malfoy, although a fellow Slytherin, had never been one of his favorite people. A year older than him, Malfoy had been a school Prefect during the last few years at Hogwarts. Snape had always considered him to be a bit of a prat, and he certainly looked the part. He was dressed in a sophisticated Muggle-style suit, a copy of the Daily Prophet tucked beneath one arm. His champagne- colored hair was swept neatly to the side. He regarded Snape from a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he said, quite pleasantly, "Come, won't you join me for a drink? I'm here with a friend, who I think you should meet. I think you'll find that. . . you have rather a great deal in common." He beckoned Snape to follow him to a table near the back.

Malfoy's companion was a older man, perhaps in his late fifties. His black hair had a few shadows of gray, his face was beginning to show the lines of age. His most remarkable feature was his eyes: a peculiar golden color, flecked with reddish-brown. He smiled, faintly, when he saw Snape approach with Malfoy, and motioned for both to join him at the table. 

"Severus, I'd like you to meet Tom Riddle. Mr. Riddle, Severus Snape." Malfoy introduced the two men.

"Severus Snape. I'm pleased to meet you," Riddle said. 

"Indeed," sneered Snape, who was not in a particularly courteous mood. Narcissa had spoiled any chance of that. 

Riddle nodded, fixing his strange eyes on Snape, who suddenly felt as if his life was abruptly being dumped out on the table and examined under an intensely bright light. He felt his temper beginning to flare, but then Riddle laughed. 

It was not at all a pleasing sound, and it startled Snape out of his anger. It was much lower than he would have expected, down-right terrifying, really. But also, strangest of all, he found it somewhat reassuring, confiding. As if Riddle somehow knew, and _understood. . . _what? Snape's total disgust for all human kind at that moment? Prats like Malfoy, nosy meddlers like Arsenius, bastards like James Potter and Sirius Black, and saucy, nonsensical harpies like Narcissa? 

Snape forced a smile, a difficult trick under such conditions. Nevertheless, he was intrigued. And wary. He'd never encountered anyone who laughed like that. As if Riddle _knew_ that the world was the one big joke Snape suspected it was.

Malfoy fumbled with his newspaper. Snape's eyes caught a headline: Bartemius Crouch Lobbies For Legalization of Unforgivable Curses.

Noticing that his companions seemed interested in the article, Malfoy obligingly read it out loud:

_"Dark times have befallen our world,"_ it announced. _"The Dark Lord, referred to only as You-Know-Who, brings terror and violence to everyday of our lives. In the last week alone, he and his followers, the Death Eaters, have struck three different times. Recklessly using the Unforgivable Curses, they torture their victims until they are driven to insanity or death. Seven Muggles have been killed, as well as witch Agnes Prewitt, age 33, daughter of Richard and Shirley Prewitt. _

_"The Ministry of Magic has been greatly criticized over the past few years for not taking action to control the Death Eaters. Their main priority has been to keep Muggles, whom You-Know-Who and his supporters despise, from realizing the impending danger. _

"Aurors, members of a distinctive division of the Ministry specially trained to capture Dark Wizards, have had difficulties subduing You-Know-Who's Death Eaters due to their nonchalant use of the Unforgivable Curses. "However," says Chief Auror Bartemius Crouch, "we are about to see some serious changes." Next month, on the first day of the new year, the Ministry will vote on whether or not to grant Aurors the right to use the Unforgivable Curses against Death Eaters. "It is the only way," Crouch assured the Ministry in his speech yesterday. "If we do not legally give them the right to use the Unforgivable Curses as well, they can easily outmatch us. If we do not act now, You-Know-Who may indeed accomplish his goal in seizing power."

"Crouch's request for legalizing the three Unforgivable Curses is widely supported amongst the Ministry. These Curses, though terribly harmful, can greatly simplify the Auror's task of stopping the Death Eaters. The first is the Imperius Curse, which forces a person to be totally controlled by another. The Cruciatus Curse inflicts great pain upon the person it is cast, weakening them so that they can be easily captured. Avada Kedavra is the final Curse, using purely for killing. "Death Eaters are more dangerous than many of the magical community even dare to imagine. It is necessary that we grant Aurors the right to use this Curse," Crouch says.

"Few oppose Crouch in his mission to spread use of the Curses. Of those who do, the only prominent names are that of Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and Auror Alastor Moody. Over the next few weeks, Crouch and his followers have reluctantly promised to delay the final vote and address their concerns. However, there can be little doubt in anyone's mind as to what the ultimate result will be. With luck, these new powers for Aurors will be able to put an end to the reign of You-Know-Who."

The bartender appeared, carrying drinks, just as they reached the end. Malfoy set the paper down, carelessly lighting a cigarette. 

Riddle's face was impassive. "Tell me, Lucius," he said. "You work for the Ministry don't you?"

Malfoy nodded. "It's a family post," he explained. "I believe I'm youngest member to have seat in over fifty years." 

Snape chose to overlook the boasting. "Will you be voting on the matter of the Unforgivable Curses then?" he asked.

"Naturally," the blonde man answered smugly. 

There was a pause. "Well, are you for them or against them?" he asked.

"For them," said Malfoy. His voice was clam and normal, but Snape noticed he gave Riddle a strangely significant glance as he spoke. Riddle made no sign that he had seen as he said:

"I, for one, doubt that the Ministry will be able to capture the Dark Lord, even with the Unforgivable Curses to aid them."

"Is he that powerful?" asked Snape, sharply.

"Yes," replied Riddle. "But it's not only that."

"What do you mean then?" Snape suddenly suspected that he was about to hear some very inside information.

Riddle sipped his drink. "I worked in the Ministry for a number of years, as an Auror, no less. But I retired some years before the Dark Lord began his reign. You see, the Ministry has grown very corrupt. Nicholas Flammel may have once been an excellent Minister of Magic, but I'm afraid he should have retired long ago. The Sorcerer's Stone may have given him eternal life (he's six hundred and fifty-two), but by no means has it kept his intellect viable. He chooses to look the other way, while countless scams and illegal operations occur under his very nose. It's sickening. And the public has no idea. "

"It's true," commented Malfoy. "The Ministry is slowly decaying, from the inside out."

Snape's eyes became slits. "So _that's_ why You-Know-Who has had so little difficulty in taking control."

"Precisely," said Riddle. "It took Flammel two years to decide that the Dark Lord really was a threat to be reckoned with. By then, it was far too late to stop him. The Ministry was in no shape to deal with a task so great."

"Of course," Snape nodded. 

"What we need," Riddle continued. "Is change. The Ministry must undergo some sort of change. The sooner the better." He smiled thinly, the reddish color in his eyes becoming unusually prominent. "Perhaps, in a strange twisted way, the terror brought from this Lord Voldemort will eventually lead to some effective reforms."

"That's a very optimistic view," said Snape sarcastically, succeeding in hiding his astonishment that Riddle had spoken the Dark Lord's name. Malfoy, on the other hand was not. He was giving Riddle a very strange look.

There was an long pause through which only Riddle seemed at ease. 

"It's beginning to snow," murmured Malfoy, unable to endure the silence. The three men glanced out the window. A fine crystal-like glaze was beginning to cover the streets. The drizzling rain had turned to snow as they spoke. It drifted down slowly from the gray sky. 

A man and a woman stopped directly outside the window, admiring the snow. 

"It's so beautiful," Snape heard Lily Evans say. She was wearing James Potter's scarlet Quidditch cloak over her robes. It clashed dreadfully with her hair, but Potter, who had his arm around her, didn't seem to care. 

"They're engaged," Malfoy remarked to no one in particular. "I'd have thought James Potter would know better than to marry a Mudblood. I hope that whenever we do get those changes in, Mr. Riddle, we'll be seeing some way in restricting the rule making to pure blooded magic users only. The Muggle-born should never be made equal to us."

Riddle shrugged, looking closely at Snape. "If it is what the people wish," was all he said. 

Malfoy seemed very perturbed by this comment. For some reason, Riddle's words had confused him. He sought solstice in his newspaper. Flipping through it, he found another headline. 

"Crouch's Attempts to Legalize the Unforgivable Curses are _Unforgivable_," he read. 

"It is impossible to please everyone, Lucius," said Riddle. "What does your opposition have to say?"

"I wouldn't call it opposition, really," Lucius answered. "This article, editorial really, is by one of the Daily Prophet's more unconventional columnists. She writes anonymously, protesting almost every act of the Ministry. No one pays her much attention, but she has collected a few followers. They come and stand outside the Ministry's doors and wave signs and such. Very irritating, but nothing more."

"Well, shall we hear what she has to say?"

Lucius read: _"Lately, with the rise of the Dark Lord, we have all seen so much death and violence, that our minds almost cannot cope with the shock. We become detached from it, desenstitzed. We begin to forget that apathy is the worst state of being possible. Worse than anger or hate. It becomes difficult for us to retain any type of feeling for the victims of You-Know-Who's attacks, for we hear about them so often, they become common place. We forget that life is a truly beautiful thing._

"Death Eaters bring exactly what their name implies. They seem to thrive on killing, the death toll since their reign began now reaches about eight hundred people. Chief Auror Bartemius Crouch seeks a way to prevent more meaningless deaths. For this, I commend him. However, to accomplish this, he plans to give his Aurors the power to use the Unforgivable Curses against the Death Eaters. This could be the solution to ridding the world of Death Eaters. But what will the terminal effects be? To put it simply: More deaths. I ask you: How can killing people to show people that killing people is wrong prove anything?' Fighting violence with violence will solve nothing. Crouch's only hope for success is that we, the people, have already become so desensitized that we will not care one way or the other if the Death Eaters are captured or killed. Is this so? In my heart, I know it is not. 

"The Ministry has already decided long ago where it stands on this issue. It is up to us to convince them otherwise. Mr. Crouch says, If we do not act now, You-Know-Who may indeed. . . seizing power.' This is true, I do not deny it. But how shall we act? _We must plan, quickly, but carefully, protecting as many as possible. Life is a gift, let us not waste it--- ours, or those of our foes."_

Snape listened to the article in silence. It had a slightly familiar ring to it, but he could not be sure why he thought so.

"Fascinating," Riddle said. "She makes an interesting appeal, whoever she is."

Malfoy snorted. "Barty Crouch would disagree, I can tell you. If he could ever find out who she is. . . he'd love to give her a week in Azkaban. Floods his office every morning and evening with letters. He practically goes berserk."

"Well, we shall see how events play out. The next few months should take some interesting turns. I suspect that there are some surprises waiting for us all." He finished his drink. 

Lucius put out his cigarette. "Shall we be going then? I'm expected at Maria Bones' for dinner."

"Certainly." Riddle got to his feet. Snape hadn't realized how tall he was. "I look forward to our next meeting, Severus Snape. Perhaps I shall pay old Arsenius a visit and purchase a few potion ingredients. We went to Hogwarts together, many years ago. I doubt he'd remember me, but tell of him I wish him well, won't you." 

"Of course," Snape promised.

Malfoy and Riddle made their farewells and left the Leaky Cauldron. Snape observed their departure through the large window, reflecting on Riddle's last words, for they told him something very interesting: Riddle had known Snape worked for Arsenius, although, Snape was fairly, they had never even seen each other before. _Perhaps, _he thought. _Perhaps our meeting here wasn't purely by chance. . . _ _What if it was planned? _Something told him that this was a distinct possibility. Riddle and Malfoy had told him a great deal, but they certainly hadn't told him all. But why?

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The snow was falling more heavily and it was getting late, when Snape returned to the shop. He reached in his pocket for his key, his fingers brushed a strange object. He withdrew the iron ring he found in the fire place that morning. 

There was a shop, on the far end of London, which specialized in magical jewelry. Snape had never been there, for it was in an area of the city with a large Muggle population. He had another free day in a few weeks, around Christmas. He decided he would get it tested then, if he did not run into Narcissa sooner.

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A/N: hi! sorry i took so long getting more of this story up. i had a lot of trouble with this chapter, but i hope it's a success. thus far, it's the only one i didn't write at three o'clock in the morning. i've taken a few creative liberties concerning wizard politics, based off of Sirius' comment in GoF by J.K. Rowling that during Voldemort's reign, the Ministry was in (quote) "disarray". yes! i made up that Nick Flammel is Minister of Magic! the first names for the Prewitts and the Bones come from my imagination too, but that's not important. also, as far as i know, there are no cigarettes in any of the harry potter books. but because we all know Lucius is a loser, he smokes.

Anyway, the next chapter is better (i think), if you didn't like this one. it involves a certain iron ring and Snape's ex-girlfriend. interested? goooood. keep readin! 

A special thanks to friends/reviewers!

Sparks-- you are a brick! i'd be sunk without you!

Jerome/Athelstan-- ha ha very funny. lol. thanks for your input. i'll be putting it all to good use.

RC:) --- you RULE, but you knew that already, didn't ya, oh evil one!

Evil Nekko Chan: You, my dear, are simply divine! The next chapter is specially for you (and me too, i guess. i had loads of fun writing it) I will be looking out for your Bebop fic! good luck and arigato gozaimasu for the great reviews. 


	5. Chapter 5

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Chapter 5

Hiya! This is my favorite chapter so far because I get to introduce two very lovely characters of my own, but don't you dare use them, cuz i'm very protective of my characters, you know? Aiko and her grandmother are MINE MINE MINE. If you do, I will come after with something sharp and unpleasant. bwa ha ha. just you wait and see. everybody else (there's only two people, Snape and mweh heh heh-i'm-not-gonna-tell-you who) are property of J.K.Rowling, whom we all love and adore.

Note: This chapter contains a few Japanese words. You can get along without knowing their meanings, but here is a handy-dandy translation guide for all of them: 

-_Obaasan_: Grandmother

-_Watashino tebukuro wa doko desu ka_?": Where are my gloves? (i think. somebody check me on that watashino' grammar. arigato!)

-_Konohana-chiru-hime_: Princess of the Falling Tree Blossoms 

-_kimono_: (i hope most of you know this one): a traditional Japanese robe

-_bonsai_ (hope you know this one too, but maybe some of u don't): carefully sculptured miniature trees that can live for a loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong time. they're very beautiful and hard to take care of. i got one from the mall once, but it died. -_-

-_(name)-chan_: tacked on at the end of someone's name as a sign of affection. means baby' or sweet-heart'. heh heh 

#V_V#

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**__**

Chapter 5

The old woman did not speak as she took the ring in her gnarled hands. Her coarse white hair was wound tightly around her head and fastened with two elaborately carved ivory combs. Her golden skin was faded, like sand, and the wrinkles that covered her face were like dragon scales. She wore a shapeless robe of blue silk, embroidered with excessively detailed gold butterflies. She was not a tall woman, but large enough to retain a certain aura of power about her. She moved with a startling grace, unknown to today's youth, her woven sandals making soft tapping sounds as she walked. She held the ring close to her lips, whispering to it now and then in a language that might have been Japanese, or something completely different.

At last she came to a stop beside Snape, slid the ring once over every bony finger, then cast it down onto the table, where it blazed, bright and yellow as the moon. She did not speak until its glow faded completely, leaving nothing but an awkward tingling in Snape's eyes. 

"It is a woman's ring," she told him. "It brought her much grief and suffering. She could not bear to wear it or bring herself to take it off. It slipped, purely by chance, from her finger as she slept and rolled into the ashes of a fire."

Snape opened his mouth in astonishment to demand how she could possibly know such details, but then hastily decided not to as the old woman continued.

"It is not an old ring, forged sometime within the past year. It has a twin, somewhere in the world, an exact copy. Both rings were made for a specific purpose, but I cannot tell what."

Snape's eye widened. "Then it _is_ magic?"

"I did not say that," she told him. "This ring was made for a reason, but it is not magic. Do you understand the difference? It is exactly what it appears to be--- an iron ring. If I had to guess, I would say that it was intended to be a gift for someone. A gift that turned out to be a curse. There is no power in the ring _itself_, but perhaps in the motive of its creator."

"Meaning what?" asked Snape.

"What do you think?" she chided him.

He considered. "You said two rings were made. One can exchange rings to represent a vow or a promise. Like wedding rings, for instance."

"Perhaps," she said, closing her eyes. "Vows are dangerous things. I suspect you may be close to the truth, but unless you find the owner of this ring, we will never know for certain. And I doubt she should welcome its return, for she shed many tears over this ring. Yes, she must be glad to be free of it."

_"Bards. . . " _Snape thought. _"Always causing trouble or getting themselves into it."_ Who knew what kind of mess Narcissa had found. Not that it was his concern.

As he counted out his money to pay her, he glanced around the shabby jeweler's shop. A small table draped in a brightly colored cloth stood beside a door at the far end. A sign beside it read: "Tarot Readings, 1:00 p.m., Thursday, Friday, Saturday."

"My granddaughter," explained the old woman. "She does it for my Muggle customers, to pick up a few pounds on the side."

"Indeed," was Snape's only comment. The woman placed the ring back in the small box he had brought it in and handed it to him.

"Thank-you," he said swiftly and turned to go.

At that moment, the back door burst open. _"Obaasan! Watashino tebukuro wa doko desu ka?"_

A compact girl in her early twenties with jet black hair in a shaggy boyish cut appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in a soft pink _kimono_, with white cherry blossoms embroidered at the hem and along her floor-length sleeves. A yellow sash bearing the same design was tied about her waist. Unlike her grandmother, her body was not lost amongst the silk layers, but her exquisite curves were carefully suggested through the folds of the material. She carried a traditional fan in one hand and a package of chocolate frogs in the other. She looked, aside from the frogs that was, like a porcelain doll, beautiful and fragile as lace. However, there was an irrepressible spark burning in her in her black eyes, proving she could be nothing but alive.

_"Konohana-chiru-hime,"_ commented Snape icily, but, when she recognized him and answered, "Severus!" with such genuine delight, he decided to be civil.

Aiko Nishimiya. She'd transferred to Hogwarts from Japan in his last year. They'd shared a number of classes together at school, then a few drinks when they kept running into each other after graduation. They'd been friends for a number of years, then, briefly, lovers, then quarreled bitterly and had not spoken since.

She came forward, delicately, careful of the long folds of silk that trailed after her. 

"Hello, Aiko," he said, folding his arms to dissuade her from offering the welcoming embrace she'd been about to give him.

She looked down at the floor, a little disappointed. Then she laughed ruefully. "You still haven't forgiven me, have you?"

He saw no need to reply, which amused her for some reason. "Ah well," she said. "I suppose that would be too much to ask. If it does any good, I am sorry. And it was all my fault."

"What a useless thing to say!"

"Do you think so? I really do mean it."

He relaxed a little in spite of himself. "I think that part of you means it, but another part of you isn't sorry at all. Am I right?"

She smiled. "Yes," she admitted. "I think that was the trouble with us, you know? You could always tell what I was thinking and I could never read you at all." She paused. "Do you think perhaps a very small part of you has forgiven me, Severus?"

"It helps to hear you take responsibility," he told her, which was still evading the question, but it was probably as close as she would get.

"You cut your hair," he said, reaching out to run his fingers through the feathery wisps of black. 

"Yes. It was getting too long to manage." She touched his sleeve. "Severus, what are you doing here?"

"I came to see your grandmother about a ring I'd found. She----" his voice trailed off as he looked about the shop. The old woman was no where in sight, but he did not recall seeing her leave.

Aiko chuckled. "She does tend to vanish like that, if you're not careful."

"She's amazing," said Snape. "She reminds me of those miniature sculptured trees, _bonsai._ Small, but wiser than anything. Where did she learn to---"

"Instinct. From what I gather, she does it all by feel. Never had any proper magical training in her life. It runs in the family, but we're always encouraged to develop our skills on our own, without any guidance."

He nodded. "I remember you telling me how you had to fight with your parents to go to Hogwarts. When did you decide to return to tradition?" He gestured at her attire.

Aiko faded suddenly. Mechanically, she retreated back to the little table by the door and sat as if to prevent herself from falling. Snape followed, not understanding her behavior.

"My mother," she said in a strange voice, "was never what you could call normal, but she was still technically a Muggle." She took a deep breath. "My parents had a house in Southend; I was living in an apartment here in London. I was going to visit one weekend, but decided to cancel so I could go to this party. . . Meanwhile, some Death Eaters broke into their house. My parents were killed and my little brother Yukida has been in serious condition at St. Mungo's for the past four months." The last few sentences came out in a rush.

"Aiko. . . " Snape whispered. He took her hand; it felt like ice.

She shook herself. "I'm all right now--- pretty much. My friends and family have been here for me. I've gotten especially close to _Obaasan_--- my grandmother." She smiled faintly, looking at her hand in his. Then she withdrew, reaching under the table to produce a deck of cards with strange Celtic designs on the back. "A stranger in Diagon Alley gave these too me the first week after it happened. She told me that she'd done a reading earlier and seen me in it. She told me my brother was going to recover. The next afternoon I got an owl telling me he'd passed through the most dangerous times and had a good chance at surviving. He's slowly making progress, I think he's going to make it." She bit her lip. "I've never been a big fan of divination, but I've kind of gotten into it since then. Would you like me to do a reading?"

Snape, who had suffered through Professor McGonagall ranting about divination fraudulence on more than one occasion, was also rather dubious about the subject. But something in Aiko's hopeful expression made him agree.

She said nothing as she shuffled through the cards with deft hands until she found the one she looked for "You're a Libra," she told him. "_The King of Swords_ is your signifier card." She placed it on the table, facing her. The card showed a tall man with dark hair standing against a stormy sky. His arms were crossed and he carried a sword. He wore a golden crown and a cape, with clouds on the outside and the night sky within. 

Aiko rose, the silk whispering like roses at dawn. She dimmed the lights of the shop and lit several candles instead, as well as a stick of incense. 

"Is all this really necessary?" asked Snape, but she did not reply. The honey light of the flames faded and almost disappeared. Aiko frowned at them and they returned with a new energy. She looked as beautiful and mysterious in their red-gold light as she had when he'd first met her. 

He'd cared for her a great deal, probably more than she would ever guess, but never loved her. There had been something between them, something powerful, but it hadn't been love. He'd known this, even when they were together and was reminded of it now, though he never knew why.

Aiko sank into the chair and spread the cards out before him, face down. "What answers do you seek?" she asked. He didn't know what to say, so she prompted, "Something that lies in you past. . . your future. Anything."

He searched his thoughts, found nothing practical to say. At last he took the small black box from his pocket. "What is the significance of this ring?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. ". . And what role will it play in your life?"

He shrugged. "Why not. Aiko, this is preposterous."

"Come on, Severus," she pouted. "Just for fun." She caught his hand and laid it down on the cards. Startled, he felt a shock of power from somewhere. "Choose," she told him.

"Which one?" He looked at the strange designs, swirling in the flickers of the candle light.

"Any of them. The cards will do the work themselves, if there is an answer to be told."

Snape chose.

A blonde woman in a dress of flame, standing in a desert, lifted a long staff into the air before a yellow sky. _The Page of Wands._

"This card crosses you," Aiko said. She placed it horizontally across the _King of Swords._ "Choose again."

Snape drew _The Seven of Swords: The Thief_. Aiko placed the card above the first two. "This card lies before you," she told him. "Again."

_The Moon._

"This card lies behind you." She placed it beneath the first two.

He chose again, not needing to be told.

The card was upside-down. It depicted a woman, dressed in a red colored robe. In one hand she carried a sword, the other, a scale. 

"_Justice_, reversed," she said. This card went to the right of the first two.

The next showed a figure dressed entirely in black. His face was bowed and hidden beneath his hood. Only his white hand could be seen. Three goblets lay at his feet, their contents spilled, the wine shimmering like blood. Two others remained upright at his side. The sky was cold and gray. _The Five of Cups._

Aiko placed it on the left of the first two. Snape looked at her, wondering at the meaning of the dark card, but her expression never wavered.

Another upside-down card: _The Six of Pentacles, _reversed.

This card was put to the far right of _Justice_, reversed. She nodded for him to draw again.

A silver chalice, overflowing with sparkling water. A great hear shown it the middle. The sky was warm with dawn or sunset. _The Ace of Cups._

This went directly above _The Six of Pentacles._

A blonde woman sitting up in bead, her hand clutching her face, as if just awakening from a nightmare. White swords hung on the dark wall above. Her blankets dark blue with silver stars. _The Nine of Swords._

She placed it above the previous card. "This next one shall be your last," she told him as his fingers came to rest on one. 

He turned it over.

Amongst a forest of white birch trees, a faceless being stood, dressed in a scarlet robe. He carried a black flag with a white rose, pure and luminous as a skull in moonlight. _Death._

Snape made a disgusted noise as Aiko set the final card above _The Nine of Swords._ "This is nonsense," he said, dismissively.

"Wait," she said frowning. "And don't worry. _Death_ doesn't necessarily represent the end of life. It's a reminder of mortality, perhaps the beginning of a new era in the seeker's life." She took the ring from the box and studied it, then turned back to the cards.

"What do you see?" he asked impatiently. 

"Shhhh. Let me think. I might actually have something here." He scowled. "Will you listen to what I've go to say?" she demanded. "Then make your decisions. I get the feeling. . . " Her voice trailed off, she glared at him until he gave her a curt nod. "Good. Now please don't interrupt until I'm done. 

"This ring has no direct effect on your life, but someone else's. _The Page of Wands._ Her life will cross yours, briefly. She will appear into it, unexpectedly, uncalled for, but with good intentions. However, her presence will force you to make intense choices." Her finger pointed to _The Five of Cups_. "You will endure a great loss, but do not give up hope. You and another. . . a man. . . two men will stand in your way because of jealousy--- yours or theirs I cannot say. You will love and you will suffer, but you will prevail----" at this she tapped the reversed _Nine of Swords,_ "even if it means death," her fingers glided to rest on the cloaked figure.

They were silent for a long time. Severus fingered the ring. The metal felt cold in his hands. Ever since he'd stepped into the shop and given it to the old woman, he'd had the strangest, unbidden feeling that Narcissa was in trouble, and he was going to get involved whether he liked it or not. 

Aiko ran her hands through her soft hair. She looked tiered, worn out. "Are you all right?" he asked her in a tone that surprised them both.

"I think so," she sighed. "Life's been rough lately."

"It is for many of us." He paused, then inquired: "Are you still with him?"

"Who? Rupert?" She shook her head. "Never get involved with a bard, Severus. Nothing but trouble can happen. We broke up about six months ago. It wasn't because he was a bard thought. He wanted to quit and join the Ministry. Rupert. . . wanted to become an Auror. He was really pushing for legalization of the Unforgivable Curses, and considering----"

"Considering you're a pacifist, you wouldn't stand for it," Snape finished for her. "I wondered if it was you writing those protest columns for the Daily Prophet." 

She grinned. "The Ministry gets pretty annoyed about that. Rupert knows it's me, but I don't think he'll tell. He's a pretty fair person, I suppose." She saw the question in Snape's eyes and shook her head. "No, I wasn't in love with him either. I don't believe in love anymore. Just life. And the right to live peacefully. But don't pass any of that on to. . ." she paused, a pleasant flush creeping onto her face."You wouldn't like him at all. In fact I'm sure of it. But he was very kind to me after my parents died."

Snape shrugged. Aiko was rarely without a lover.

She looked at him imploringly. "What about you? Anyone in your life? The cards. . . " When he shrugged again, she smirked. "Whose ring is that, dare I ask?"

He glared at her. "I'm not exactly sure," he said crossly. "I think it belongs to a bard by name of Narcissa Grae, but I could be wrong. I ran into her last month and found this not long after. What is it?" he added, noticing a peculiar expression on her face.

"You think this ring belongs to. . . Narcissa Grae? Oh, Severus, haven't you heard, a couple of months ago Rissa got----"

Snape frowned. "Aiko, don't you dare finish that sentence with she got killed in a tragic accident. I know for a fact she wasn't a ghost. She was altogether too lively."

"I wasn't going to say anything of the sort. It's just that she's not---"

She was interrupted again, but this time it wasn't by Snape. A loud roaring, buzzing sound that suddenly filled the street drowned out her words. It got closer and more intense every second. Aiko let out an almost inaudible squeak, then hastily began to dash about, blowing out candles.

"Turn on the lights," she hollered at him over the din. "That switch by the front door. Oh, this is dreadful!"

He did as she asked, confused. The roaring came to stop as suddenly as it had started. 

Through the window, Snape could see a black motorbike slid to a stop right outside the jeweler's show. Its rider sprang off and strode towards the door.

Snape turned to fix Aiko with a cold stare, incredulous that she would do such a thing.

The door opened just as the rider, carrying a bouquet of sunny chrysanthemums, was taking off his helmet. But Snape already knew perfectly well whose face he was going to see.

"G'morning, Aiko-chan," said Sirius Black.

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A/N: okay, for those of you who decided to skip my little intro or have just plain forgotten..... "chan" means baby' or sweet-heart'. YES! Sirius Black is Aiko's new boyfriend! ooooooo. Snape not going to be happy about this, no da? hey, i'd probably pick sirius over snape too. he's got better looks, charm, sense of humor, nice pony tail. yeah..... but Snape has his good points too. With luck, we'll get to see some of them as time goes on. eeeeeee!

Aiko is using the Robin Wood tarot deck and doing a Celtic Cross. now, please don't jump to conclusions...... I, like Snape and Professor McGonagall, believe divination isn't worth a whole lot. however, it's a more interesting plot device than a crystal ball. Many thanks to Gypsycat and Elfprincess for helping me out with the meanings and all that.

kk. hope to see you all again soon in the next chapter, in which, i do belive, we shall see some fireworks go off..... oh, yeah, and Narcissa will be back (finally!)


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